Dark Knight Meets Dark Angel
by Calico
Summary: The title sort of says it all. Terry McGinnis meets his own 'cat woman'. Crossover with 'Dark Angel'
1. Default Chapter

Dark Knight Meets Dark Angel 

Author: Calico  calico321@yahoo.com

Rating: PG

Summary:  Terry McGinnis meets his own 'cat woman'.

It was late and she had been waiting for just the right moment.  There were no lights on in the old house, and hadn't been for several hours.  She knew from her reconnaissance that the old man who lived in the large house had no servants and never had any guests, except for a young man.  She had surmised that he wasn't a relative simply because he seemed too middle class to be related to the richest man in Gotham.

_It's now or never_ she heard in her head.   That voice always belonged to Zach, the one that encouraged, even goaded, them all into doing whatever needed to be done.  Well, this didn't exactly fall under the needed category.  The small object of her desire waited inside simply for the taking.

She had spent the last eight months tracking down that little statue, the Egyptian goddess Bastet, the cat.  She couldn't remember exactly when she decided she had to have it back.  One of the many lonely nights following Logan's death, packing up his belongings, remembering the last twenty years.  All she knew was that little statue had brought them together.  You could call it fate if you believed in such things, which she didn't.  It just happened to be – she had attempted to steal something from the man who would in turn steal her heart.  There was poetry in that, and getting the cat back had turned into an obsession that eased the pain on her heart.

In her research she had discovered the little statue had been sold and stolen several times, only to appear finally at an auction ten years ago.  The high bidder had been wealthy recluse Bruce Wayne, currently residing in Gotham City.  She had been in Gotham for over a month.  It usually did not require so much prep time before a heist, but she was rusty after fifteen years of the pseudo-retirement marriage had brought.  No, that wasn't the truth, she could never be rusty.  Grief just had a way of sweeping time along.  Close your eyes for a moment and discover a week has gone by.  She'd spent her time researching Gotham in general and Wayne in particular.

Born to wealth he had never really accomplished much besides running his father's company, Wayne Enterprises, and starting the Wayne Foundation, which developed phenomenal technologies and provided millions to charity, respectively.  Though impressive, the man himself was better known for his parties than any personal triumphs.  The lifelong bachelor was considered a womanizer and a layabout in his heydays.  Now, since losing control of his company, he was barely considered at all.  This should be easy pickings.

Taking several long strides she leapt into the air effortlessly clearing the fence and landing on the other side on her haunches.  Staying in the shadows, her skintight leather suit acting as camouflage, she silently made her way towards the manor house.  She sensed the approaching dog long before it reached her and had already pulled out a gas pellet that she threw in its face as it launched its large body at her.  "Nighty night," she whispered to the unconscious animal as she continued her trek.

She made her way to the back of the house, avoiding the front door entirely.  At the rear of the building she surveyed the upper windows.  She leaped up and landed on the sill, popping the latch and sliding the sash.  She entered what appeared to be a guest bedroom, no doubt unused for decades.  A quick look showed nothing of interest.  She exited into a hallway and attempted to get her bearings.  Looking towards the right she saw a set of double doors, presumably to the master bedroom.  Since she was already upstairs she decided to check it out first.  A large bed dominated the room that was sparsely decorated.  For a supposedly wealthy dilettante the man lacked a sense of style.

A smile slowly spread on her face as she saw a small table in the corner.  Sitting in the middle of the table was Bastet herself, waiting patiently to return home.

The alarm sounded in the cavernous regions below Wayne Manor.  "There's a intruder upstairs," Bruce Wayne said to his companion, a young man dressed in the infamous Batsuit.  "In my bedroom."

"Maybe it's Barbara," Terry McGinnis suggested.  The older man scowled up at him.  "Or not.  I'll just go up and check it out."  He quickly made his way up stairs and down the hall.  The master bedroom doors stood open and inside he saw a young woman picking up a piece of statuary.  She held it in her hands for a few moments before slipping it into a bag attached to her waist.  "I don't think that belongs to you," he called out to her.  She turned and her beauty momentarily overwhelmed him.  Black hair fell freely down her shoulders, dark almond shaped eyes peered at him, and full lips gave a momentary smile before she replied.  Terry McGinnis had once thought his girlfriend, Dana Tan, was the loveliest creature he'd ever known.  Now he wasn't so sure.

"Actually it does."  Her eyes narrowed as she looked him over.   "And what exactly are you supposed to be?"

"I'm Batman.  Who are you?"

With a smile she replied, "Just leaving."  She raced towards the windows but he shot a bolo out that wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms in.  She turned back to him.  "Cute.  So you like toys."  She shrugged her shoulders and he heard a popping sound.  Her left arm rotated in and slid out from under the binds.  The bolo fell to the floor and she popped the shoulder back into place.  "What can I say, I'm double jointed," she responded to the unanswered question.  With a sigh she stepped over to him and said, "Ok Rodent Boy you want to do this the hard way, let's go."

Terry had never become comfortable fighting with women, which had caused him problems a time or two.  But the first punch she landed hit so hard he completely forgot about her gender.  She was strong, stronger than any of the men he had fought normal or not, and her speed was completely unnatural.  They traded punches and kicks.  She threw him into the dresser, which collapsed, and he knocked her into the bedside table, trashing it.  She did a back handspring kicking him in the face with both feet as they flew by.  He managed a back flip keeping him in the game.

"Not bad," she smiled.  "But I'd like to see you do that without the suit."

"Oh I could do that without the suit.  This, I need the suit for."  He activated his boot thrusters, shooting straight at her.  His momentum carried them both towards the bed where he flipped her over, trying to pin her arms behind her back with a pair of Batcuffs.  Her legs flipped up and scissored around his neck, yanking him backwards.  He slid to a stop on the floor, ready to leap up after her.

"Enough!"  Both combatants stopped and looked towards the door.

"Hey you brought your grampa, how sweet," she said, standing from the bed.  "As much as I'd like to meet the whole family, I gotta jam."  Two giant steps sent her flying towards the window and she crashed through, falling two stories to the ground.  Bruce and Terry walked over and saw her jump up from the landing spot and sprint away at an incredible pace.

"Want me to go after her?" Terry asked.

"No."  He looked to the table that was now short one cat statue.  "We've got some research to do.  Next time you meet her you'll be prepared."

"There's going to be a next time?" Terry asked.

"You'd better hope so.  I want that statue back."


	2. 2

            The next day Bruce was sitting at the computer going over the video feed of Terry's fight with the cat burglar.  He replayed it over and over trying to search out some clue of her identity, something they could use to track her down.  He wanted that statue back.

            To anyone who asked, he would simply explain that he'd spent a great deal of money on the simple work of art, but aside from the fact that he could easily claim the loss on his insurance, it was far more valuable than money.  It was a sentimental reminder of a certain other thief.  A certain seductive, feline thief.  

            As the footage played out before him, Terry flew at the girl and they both landed on the bed.  She was turned over onto her stomach and then he was thrown off.

            "Computer, rewind 15 seconds, playback at half speed."  The images reversed and played even slower.  "Stop.  Back up ten frames.  Playback one frame per second."   On screen, the girl was tossed onto her stomach in excruciating slow motion.  Her hair slowly fell away from her neck revealing… "Stop!"  His eyes hadn't deceived him; there was something on her neck.  "Forward one frame."  The hair moved ever more slightly.  Lines were apparently tattooed just below her hairline.  "Computer, magnify five times.  Enhance background, reduce foreground."  Little by little the pixels on the screen jumped and reassembled until the image was visible.  

            "A bar code?" Bruce spoke out loud.  His eyes narrowed.  It had been a long time.  He was definitely going to have to do some research.

            "Hurry up Terry!" Dana called out.

            "I'm coming!" he answered while stowing his knapsack in the hidden compartment of his motorbike.  Dana and Max were waiting at the entrance to Rhino's Chili where they were going to grab an after school snack.  He jogged up to them.  "Okay, let's go," he said putting a hand on each of the girls' shoulders.  He escorted them up to the door, which was opened by a dark-haired, young woman exiting at exactly the same time.  She was putting on her sunglasses as she brushed past the two girls and then stopped since Terry was blocking her path.

            "Excuse me," she said and then looked right at him.  Terry's eyes went wide as he looked into the face of the beautiful thief from Bruce's house.  "Well?" she asked sarcastically since he hadn't bothered to move out of the way.

            "Uh, sorry," he sputtered and stepped to his right allowing her to pass by.  His head craned around watching her mount a motorcycle, stomp on the starter and speed away.  "Hey Dana, I've got to take a rain check," he said to his girlfriend who was waiting patiently inside the door.

            "Terry," she whined.  "You can't blow me off _again_!"

            "I'm really sorry, but I just remembered an important errand I've got to run for Mr. Wayne."  He grabbed her shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead.  "Later Max," he threw over his shoulder as he sprinted down the walk to his bike.

            He started it up and swerved into traffic in hot pursuit.  With one hand he reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone, hitting the speed dial.

            "Wayne."

            "Hey it's me.  You'll never guess who I just ran into at Rhino's."

            "Then don't make me."

            "Okay, okay!  It was that girl from last night!  I'm following her right now on a motorcycle."

            "Don't get too close Terry," Bruce warned.

            "What do you mean?  As soon as I know where she's going, I'll get into the suit and take her out."

            "Terry, do _not_ get too close to her until we have a chance to talk.  That's an order.  Follow her from a distance as far as you can, then get back here.  Understood?"

            "Yeah alright.  Gotta go, she's turning up ahead."  He stowed the phone back in his jacket and concentrated on his prey.

            She knew the kid from that greasy chili place was following her; he was about as subtle as a freight train.  She figured she'd lead him on a merry chase throughout the city and then leave him in the dust.

            She also knew that he'd recognized her.  He was a kid all right, probably not even eighteen yet, and his emotions were written clearly on his face.  His eyes had all but screamed 'I know you'.  It didn't take a genius to figure out he was the guy in the suit last night.  Same height and build, same voice.

            She turned her head back to make sure he was still there and made an exaggerated turn so he wouldn't miss it.

            What was bothering her was the old man.  The Batman had shown up and the old guy had appeared not too long after.  Were they having tea or something?  Not likely.  Fact was, she'd recognized him too.  He was the one she'd seen visiting Wayne Manor as she was staking out the place, the one she'd decided wasn't a relative.

            Something was tickling the back of her mind.  While she'd researched Wayne and Gotham City, she'd run across stories of this Batman character, who'd acted like a one-man clean up crew for about thirty years.  But then he'd inexplicably disappeared for a couple of decades until this new guy had shown up.

            She smirked, as the idea grew full-fledged.  She was no stranger to the concept of a secret identity.  After all if a millionaire like Logan Cale could be the infamous computer hacker slash freedom fighter Eyes Only, why couldn't a billionaire like Bruce Wayne be Batman?  It made her feel like laughing for the first time in months.

            Tired of the chase, she made a sharp turn left and then immediately another into an alley.  She twisted around in her seat to watch the kid speed by.  _Amateur_, she thought.  Suit or no suit, he was no match for an X-5.


	3. 3

            "Well I lost her," Terry remarked as her removed his helmet.  A bat flew over his head towards the dark depths of the caves and he walked over to where Bruce was sitting.  "So what have you got?"

            "Take a look at this," the older man said indicating the image frozen on the computer screen.

            Terry leaned forward squinting.  "What's that, some sort of marking?"

            "It's a barcode tattooed on the back of her neck."

            "Well that's kind of freaky I admit, but what's it supposed to mean?"

            Bruce leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers together.  "That's her designation."

            "Huh?"

            "Let me start from the beginning.  Around the turn of the century there was a secret government project known as Manticore headquartered in a compound outside of Seattle, Washington.  Their scientists were working towards creating the perfect soldier by combining genetic engineering and immersion training.  They mixed human DNA with that of various animals to gain increased stamina, strength, speed, etc."

            "Splicing?" Terry asked with wide eyes.

            Bruce shook his head slowly.  "No.  This was done in vitro, in the test tube.  After the children were born they received intensive combat training."

            "Okay," Terry said slowly.  "That's really creepy, but I still don't understand what that means to us."

            "The first products of Manticore's experiments were physically mutated and easily identifiable.  But after refining the process and new wave of these transgenics were created, known as the X series.  These children were physically identical to any normal person.  These were the closest to their ideal."  He leaned forward.  "In 2009, shortly before the pulse a group of X5s ranging in ages from six to ten escaped from Manticore."

            "Pulse?" Terry asked with a frown.  "What's that?"

            Bruce frowned.  "Don't they teach you anything in history anymore?  An electro-magnetic pulse was exploded in the atmosphere over the west coast frying every piece of computer equipment in a 2000-mile radius.  Records were lost, the entire area was thrown into chaos and it was placed under martial law.  Only in the last decade have they been able to rebuild and rejoin the 21st century.

            "The rogue transgenics used the confusion caused by the pulse to remain underground.  Then about ten years later an assault was led on the Manticore compound.  The entire place was burned to the ground and all the transgenics were set loose.  It was generally believed a handful of those renegade X5s was behind the attack.  Since then they have lived among us, some as law abiding citizens, some using their natural abilities for less than altruistic purposes."

            "So are you trying to tell me that girl was one of those trans-whats-its?"

            "Transgenics.  Yes.  She is one of the X5 series.  According to her barcode her designation was X5-452."

            "Bruce that doesn't make any sense.  From what you said those X5s would have been born over 40 years ago; she didn't look a day over 22."

            "They were created to be impervious to disease, biochemical warfare, etc.  I'm sure they threw something into the mix to retard the aging process too.  They'd want their product to have a long shelf life."

            Terry pondered this for a moment.  "So that's why she was so strong and fast?"

            Bruce nodded.  "And I would hazard that she has even more enhanced abilities, depending on what animals she was combined with."

            "Great.  She can't be unbeatable can she?  
            Bruce smiled knowingly.  "No one is unbeatable if you're prepared."

            "Have you gone up against one of these transgenics before?"

            "No.  If any of them have been in the city they've behaved themselves."

            "Do you think she's still in Gotham?  Will she be pulling any more jobs?"

            Bruce tapped his finger on the armrest of his chair thoughtfully.  "I've been thinking about that.  I don't believe her motive was simply monetary.  There are much more valuable things in this house she could have taken."

            "Yeah, but I got to her before she could grab anything else," Terry pointed out.

            Bruce shook his head.  "She said something implying her ownership of that statue.  I'm going to do a background check into its history and see if I can come up with anything.  Aside from that we'll just have to wait until she makes the next move since we don't know enough about her."

            "I know one thing.  She likes chili," Terry said with a smile.

            Ignoring the remark, Bruce replied, "Suit up and get out on patrol.  There's enough crime to worry about without her."

            She was out on the terrace of her hotel room, leaning back in a chair with her feet up on the railing beside Bastet.  Behind the cat statue was the skyline of Gotham City looking so bright and alive.  Being up here reminded her of the nights she would sit atop the Space Needle, surveying the ruined city beneath her.  Gotham was completely different.  Being this far east it had barely been touched by the pulse.

            She had to decide what she was going to do next, whether or not to return to Seattle.  Her friends, both normal and transgenic were there, but so were the memories of Logan.  She wasn't certain she wanted to go back just yet.  And Gotham was nice enough for now.  She would just have to avoid the local flying rodent, which didn't pose much of a problem in her opinion.  Some punk kid in a souped up costume and an old dude who didn't know he was past his prime weren't much of a threat after you'd gone up against an entire government that originally wanted to use and control you and then in the end just wanted to kill you.

            "Slag it," she muttered getting up.  The night was still young and she was bored.  She stowed Bastet in the room safe; there were too many unsavory characters in this town to take a chance on leaving it out in the open.  Throwing on her leather jacket, she grabbed her keys and sunglasses and headed outside where she jumped on her motorcycle and took off down the road.  There was a bar she'd discovered down on the lower south side and right now she felt like a game of pool and a couple of beers to let off some steam.

            The bike roared beneath her as her hair streamed out, whipped around by the wind, and she weaved in and out of traffic, enjoying the feel of freedom.  The sunglasses shaded her highly sensitive eyes from the oncoming lights.  Turning down a side street she speed past a gang looting a pawnshop.  They wore bright colored clothes and painted faces with hideous grins like a nightmare troupe of circus performers.  Two blocks further she skidded to a stop.  The looting didn't bother her, let them take what they wanted for all she was concerned, but she'd seen what appeared to be the shop's owner and his family inside cowering together as one of the clowns covered them with a gun.

            She jumped off the bike and quietly made her way back up the block.  One clown was standing guard at the door.  She tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Hey, you're ugly and your mother dresses you funny," before smashing him in the face with her fist and disarming him.


	4. 4

            "So the biochem exam's tomorrow and I haven't had a moment to study," Terry complained into the batmobile's telecommunication system.

            "Don't worry Ter you're a natural," Maxine Gibson assured him from the comfort of her apartment living room.

            "Yeah, a natural screw-up," he retorted.  "I didn't even have a chance to tell you about this girl who royally whipped my butt.  You wouldn't believe how strong and fast she was."

            "Are you sure her name wasn't Dana?  After you took off this afternoon she was about mad enough to spit nails."

            Terry groaned.  "I know, I know!  But that was her coming out of Rhino's.  She stole something from Mr. Wayne and he really wants it back.  It was all for nothing though – she disappeared before I could catch up to her.  Apparently she's some genetically enhanced super-soldier from the west coast."

            "Wow, they're growing them tough out there," Max remarked dryly. 

            "Ha, ha.  It's some government thing from the 90's…"  His voice trailed off as the surveillance equipment in the car picked up some unusual activity below.  "I gotta check out Max.  There's something going on."

            "Fine.  See you tomorrow McGinnis."

            Terry set the car for autopilot and ejected himself into the night air.  On street-level he could see a storefront with a shattered window and signs of an altercation within.  As he landed gently he noticed a half dozen Jokerz being tossed about by a petite dark-haired whirlwind.  "Well I'll be," he whispered to himself.  He hailed the Batcave on his communicator.  "Wayne, are you there?"

            "Yes Terry, go ahead."

            "I'm at a pawnshop on the south side and inside there's a gang of Jokerz versus one pissed off lady."

            "The X5?" Bruce questioned eagerly.

            "In the flesh.  Hey, looks like they've got hostages.  I'm going in to see what I can do."

            "Keep the line open."

            Terry engaged his camouflage mode and stepped into the building.  The entire place was ransacked and he could see why.  Several Jokerz littered the floor while many more were being tossed like dolls, destroying everything in their path.

            A man, a woman, and two children cowered in a corner while a lone, armed clown stood over them watching his friends attempt a group assault and lose pitiably.

            "Is this a private party or can anyone join in?" Terry asked and the joker whirled around.  Since the suit blended into the background he couldn't place the location of the speaker and frantically turned his head back and forth.  "Right here Clarabelle," Terry said, becoming visible again and slamming his fist into the guy's nose, sending him flying backwards over the counter.  Looking down at the family he said, "You might want to get out while the getting's good."  Not needing any more encouragement the four people leapt to their feet and ran out the door.

             Across the room it was down to the girl and two large, mean-looking Jokerz.  "Come on boys.  Don't wimp out on me now," she smirked as they slowly advanced on her.

            "I wouldn't do that," Terry remarked, leaning against one of the few shelves that had remained standing.  "You're going to be in a world of hurt."

            "I don't need any advice junior," she called out.

            "I was talking to them."

            The Jokerz both looked back.  "It's the Bat!" one of them shouted.

            "Oh so what?  I'm the one you're dealing with now," she taunted them.

            The other members of the gang were slowly coming to their feet.  They all looked from Batman to the girl and then as if with a common brain all turned tail and sprinted out the door.

            "Losers," she muttered in disgust and started to pick her way over the debris towards the exit.

            "Jokerz actually," Terry commented.  She shot him a vicious look and then continued walking.  "Hey, don't think you're getting out of here that easy."  He reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her.  Before he even knew what was happening she'd grabbed a hold of his wrist and flipped him onto the floor face first, pulling the arm back almost to its breaking point.  "Ow! Hey!" he cried out.

            "I don't know what kind of racket you and old man Wayne have going on in this town, kid, and I don't care.  Just keep it away from me."

            "Terry!" Bruce shouted into his ear.

            "A…little…busy…right…now," he grunted in response.

            With one final torque of his shoulder she released him and continued her trek towards the door.

            "Don't let her get away McGinnis.  I want to speak with her."

            _Right_, he thought.  Out loud he said, "I know about Manticore and the transgenics."

            She stopped and turned back towards him, wearing the most beautiful smile.  "Well, bully for you.  Twenty years ago _everybody_ knew about Manticore.  The government did a piss-poor cover-up job.  It's old news junior.  No one cares anymore."  She gave him her back and continued walking.

            "Terry, ask her about Logan Cale."

            "Who the heck is Logan Cale?" he asked in return and before Bruce could even formulate a reply Terry was pinned against the wall, his feet dangling six inches from the floor, her hand a vice grip on his throat.

            "What do you know about Logan?" she asked harshly.

            "Nothing," he coughed.  "But my friend does."

            She dropped him and he collapsed to the floor.  In his ear Bruce said, "Bring her here."

            "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

            "Is what a good idea?" she barked at him.

            He looked up at her as Bruce replied, "She's already made us.  Besides I have the feeling she wants public exposure even less than we do."

            Terry stood up with his hands out in a gesture of peace.  "Let's call a truce, okay?  My friend just wants to talk to you."

            "Your friend?  You mean Wayne?" she sneered.

            "Yeah.  So what do you say?"

            "I say you're both a little touched in the head."

            "You should be honored.  Not many people get an invitation."

            "Shove your invitation."  But she didn't try to leave.  Crossing her arms she asked, "He knew Logan?"

            "Yeah, I guess.  He didn't go into details."

            "I'll think about it."

            "Eh, I think he kind of meant tonight."

            "Too bad.  I'll get there when I get there, if I decide to go that is."  She stepped back.  "Don't worry, I know the way," she reminded him and then finally walked out the door.


	5. 5

            She'd returned to her room and was reclining on her bed staring at the vidphone in her lap.  Finally she connected and listened to the ringing on the other side of the country, glancing at her watch as she did so.  It wasn't quite midnight yet, so it would almost be 9:00 on the west coast.  Not too late she hoped.

            "Hello!" the reply came.  On the screen she saw the face of one of her X5 brethren, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, with the smile of an angel and the disposition of a devil.

            "Alec, what's going on?"

            "Not much.  What's up with you Max?  Did you get the prize?"

            "Yeah.  Yeah I did," she sighed.

            "Good to know.  Did it make you feel better?" he asked quietly.

            She sighed.  "Not really.  He's still…dead you know."

            "I do know Max.  It's something that's going to take time, not a piece of art.  Why don't you come on home now?"

            "I can't, not just yet.  Hey Alec, have you heard of Batman?"

            She saw him scrunch his face in thought.  "I dunno, I think he was like some urban myth in Gotham years ago.  Why?"

            "'Cause I met him.  Well not actually him, more like Batman: The Next Generation.  But the original is still around and he wants to meet with me.  Says he knew Logan or something."

            "Wait a sec, Max, how on earth did you find him?"

            "Funny story.  He had the cat."

            "Get out," Alec replied flatly.

            "Seriously."

            "Max," Alec warned.  "This isn't healthy, it's borderline obsessive.  Just come back here.  We all miss you.  What good is this going to do?"

            "It's just something I need, Alec."  She swallowed and then said lightly, "How's Cindy doing?"

            "She's getting ready for bed.  She misses her mother, but otherwise is fine."

            "Can I talk to her?"

            "Of course."  He moved out of camera range and she heard him call out, "Cindy!  Phone!  It's your mom!"  

            A few moments later a young girl of about nine and wearing pajamas came into focus.  Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she smiled with Logan's mouth.  "Mom!  Where are you?" asked the child, who had been named after Max's best friend, Original Cindy.

            "Gotham City, sugar.  How are you?" Max asked with a soft smile.

            "I'm good.  I miss you though.  When are you coming home?"

            "Soon.  Really soon, I promise.  There's just some business I have to take care of here."

            "About Daddy?" the girl asked softly.

            "Yeah, sugar, about Daddy.  How is Uncle Alec treating you?"

            "Great!" the girl said as her eyes lit up.  "He took me out today and taught me how to pick pockets.  It's real fun…"

            The girl was suddenly pushed out of the way.  "Hey, hey there slugger," she heard Alec say.  "That was supposed to be our little secret, right?"

            "Alec!" Max shouted into the phone.  "When I get back you are so going to get your ass kicked!"

            "Now Max don't get all overexcited on me.  I'm just bringing the girl's natural born talents into focus.  We don't keep anything I promise."

            "Alec," she growled.

            "Listen you really need to get back here soon.  Babysitting's just not my gig.  It's cramping my style."  

            Max frowned.  "You are such a loser.  One week.  I'll be back in one week," she promised.  "Keep yourself out of trouble until then please."

            "Okay, but if she picks up more bad habits, I don't want to hear any complaining.  I warned you."

            "You won't hear it Alec, you'll feel it.  'Night," she said sweetly as she disconnected.  She put the phone back on the side table and looked at her watch.  Ten minutes to midnight.  Not exactly time for a social call, but then she reminded herself that bats sleep during the day.

            For the second time that night she left her room and headed out into the night.

            "I'm slagged," Terry moaned after he'd gotten out of the Batmobile and removed the mask.

            "It was a quiet night," Bruce reminded him.

            "You're kidding right?  I haven't slept in, oh I don't know, months.  I'm heading home for some desperate R & R after I study for my exam tomorrow.  Any objections?" he asked as he pulled the suit's tunic over his head.  Wayne looked at him for one moment then turned away as a means of consent.  "Well, thanks a lot," Terry sighed and removed the rest of his suit.  In his boxer shorts he grabbed his pile of 'normal' clothes and started pulling them on.  "You know," he called out with a yawn, "if you're thinking about recruiting the little thief to our cause I don't think you're going to have much luck."

            "That's not what I want," Bruce replied sifting through the supply closet, determining what items needed replenishing.

            "So, what do you want to talk to her about?"

            Bruce was silent and Terry wasn't sure he'd been heard, but before he could ask again Ace, Bruce's Great Dane and ever-present companion, leapt up from the spot where he was napping besides Bruce's chair and loped to other side of the cave's main floor, stopping at the border created where the overhead lights faded away and shadows began.  A deep, menacing growl erupted from the massive dog's chest followed by a series of powerful barks, like reports from a canon.

            "What the…?" Terry said as he finished fastening his trousers.

            "What is it boy?" Bruce asked, frowning into the darkness.  He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a Batarang.  "Show yourself!" he hollered out.

            There was a silence following his deep command, where both men, the dog, and all the scores of bats that gave the large cavern its ominous name seemed to hold their collective breaths and waited for whatever possible enemy would descend upon them.  In this silence that was almost alive unto itself, there was the sound of soft steps, the light scratching as the approaching intruder entered the wide arena.  One black boot stepped into the light a foot from Ace, followed by another.  The dog growled and leaned forward on his front feet in attack stance, his artillery of teeth bared, perhaps remembering the unwanted nap from the previous evening.

            "Don't mess with me, Fido," she warned the animal.  "This kitty bites back."

            "Ace, come!" Bruce bellowed and for one second it looked as though Ace would disobey, but then the tension eased out of his thick muscles and he turned to trot and sit beside his master's feet.  "You could have used the front door," Bruce commented to his unexpected visitor.

            She shrugged.  "I've been upstairs.  Nothing much to write home about.  You really should talk to a decorator."  She let her eyes wander about the cathedral-like testament to technology and crime fighting.  "Of course I can see your skills lie elsewhere."

            "How did you get in here?" Terry asked, astonished she could get past the old man's defense systems.  "How did you even find the cave?"

            She nonchalantly walked towards them, meandering to look at various things in a detached way, not giving the impression of any real curiosity.  "Tsk, tsk, Junior.  I was doing tracking and surveillance almost as soon as I could walk.  All I had to do was stake out the mansion and sure enough you came along in your little flying car.  The holographic cliff face is very good I have to say.  I probably wouldn't have been able to find that by myself…in less than a week at least.  The rest I won't even bother with.  If I couldn't get past security like that I wouldn't have made it passed my tenth birthday."  By the time she was finished, she was standing before Bruce and it was clear whom she had been speaking to all along.

            "You're good," he admitted.  "Do you have a name, or do we have to refer to you by your serial number, X5-452?"

            She smiled at him, but it wasn't full of warmth, it was cunning, almost bitter.  "Max.  And you're Bruce Wayne, notorious playboy philanthropist, and the even more infamous Batman."  She put out her hand and he regarded it skeptically.  "Don't worry, I won't bite.  Yet."  He lifted the hand that was still holding a Batarang, the other wrapped around his cane.  "Ooo, more toys.  You boys do know how to play rough don't you?"  He placed it back into the closet, and then accepted her offered hand.

            Before she could react, he'd flipped her around, bringing her hand up to her shoulder blades.  One side of a set of Batcuffs snapped around the wrist and the other arm brought around to join it in the cuffs.

            "Hey!" she cried.  "What's the matter with you?"

            He placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed until she sat down hard on the reinforced steel floor, gazing up at him with fire in her eyes.  "Now we're going to have a little talk," he said to her. 


	6. 6

She looked up at him with hate in her eyes so palatable the old saying 'If looks could kill' came to his mind.  But she was subdued finally, a little of the attitude drained from her.  It was a mask of her own, the smart retorts, the cavalier swagger, the posturing.  She was covering her vulnerable underbelly with the armor of rebelliousness.

Terry stepped over and crossed his arms across his chest.  With a wry smile he said, "I would have warned you about underestimating him, but then again you probably wouldn't have listened to me anyway."

"Shut up," she said with unveiled distaste.

"Terry," Bruce chided softly.  "Let's not antagonize our guest."

"Guest?" she spat.  "I don't think so.  What are you going to do with me, call the police?" she spoke with a tone that suggested she didn't think he would dare do something so bold.

"And if I do?" he challenged her.

"Right, like you're going to risk me spilling the beans on your whole operation."

"What makes you think anyone will believe you?"

"You're kidding?" she asked incredulously.

"Do you really think I've gone this long without taking precautions?  What's the word of a thief to that of elderly and wealthy playboy Bruce Wayne whose reputation doesn't fit the profile of Batman at all?"  She slumped back in defeat and next to him Terry grinned, no doubt pleased to get a bit of revenge after being trounced twice by the petite figure.  "You're in no position to make demands or threats, only to answer my questions.  Are we clear on this?"

The little thief nodded almost imperceptibly.  She really was quite beautiful Bruce thought objectively.  Manticore no doubt designed her to get past the enemy's defenses using her femininity as a cover for the deadly adversary that lay beneath.  She exuded a low-level, yet still powerful sexuality, like a pheromone, unlike Selina Kyle who had been very blatant and overt with her innuendos, skin-tight attire, and body language.  Sex had been her weapon and she wielded with the precision of a master marksman, as fierce and dangerous with her lips as she had been with her whip.

Bruce Wayne, the former Batman, was uncomfortably aware that he was comparing the two women, no doubt brought on by the fact that Max had stolen from him the cat statuette that had been the last thing Catwoman took before vanishing from Gotham without a trace, so completely gone that even the Batman could not pick up her trail.  When the statue had shown up at a Sotheby's auction several years later he knew he had to have it, and paid over three times the appraised price for it.  But purchasing it had brought him no closer to the feline purloiner that he still often dreamt about.  He supposed Catwoman's greatest heist had simply been his heart, though she would never know that.

"Where is it?" he growled down to the genetic wonder trussed up like a rodeo steer before him.

"Where's what?" she replied airily, looking over his shoulder.

"Don't play games with me Max.  The cat you stole.  Where is it?"

"Somewhere you'll never find it.  Go ahead and call the cops.  How long do you think they'll be able to hold me?"

"Terry," he called out to his young apprentice without breaking eye contact with the deceptively young-looking woman.  "Look through her pockets."

Her eyes opened wide.  "Don't you dare!"  But Terry had already complied, opening the flaps of her combat-style flack vest.  "Watch your hands Junior!" she yelled into his ear.

"Hey I gotta hotel room keycard," Terry said standing up, looking rather pleased with himself.

Bruce glanced at it.  "Gotham Towers.  Go search her room."  Terry looked about ready to argue.  "Now, McGinnis!"

"Okay, okay," the boy muttered, skulking off to change back into the Tomorrow Knight.

"You don't even know Logan, do you?" she accused unhappily.

"I did a background search of the statue's owners.  Interestingly twenty years ago this statue was owned by the Cale family, based in Seattle, for many years, yet in 2019 Logan Cale had to repurchase it from a less than reputable source, presumably because it had been stolen.  Considering Manticore's proximity to Seattle I hazarded a guess you were somehow involved in relieving Mr. Cale of his merchandise.  A few years later he sold it to a legitimate buyer."

"That was after his family lost all their money," she replied quietly.

Bruce nodded.  "I did business with the Cale's, Logan's father and uncle, before the pulse.  I met him once when I was over there, while he was home from college.  A very nice young man from what I remember, very dedicated."  He watched the sadness hang off her shoulders like a bad suit.  He furrowed his brow.  "You were close to him," he stated, unsure of what to expect.

She looked up at him, a gaze full of strength tempered by pain.  It was a look he was familiar with.  "I was about as close as a person can get.  We were married."

"That's…surprising," he replied.

"Really?  It's not so surprising when you know all the facts.  Ever hear of Eyes Only?"

With a slight nod he said, "Anonymous journalist trying to maintain justice in the corrupt aftermath of the pulse."  He paused.  "Logan Cale?"

"That's right.  He fought the good fight.  After he caught me stealing the statue he figured out immediately I was a transgenic.  Made a deal with me.  I'd help with his Eyes Only crusade and he'd help me find out about Manticore.  But it went past that, way past that," she sighed.  "He was instrumental in getting the Transgenic Equal Rights bill passed in Congress.  Without him we'd all still be hunted and hated."

Bruce frowned.  "I've never heard his name connected with that."

"He was strictly behind the scenes, pulling strings and calling old family favors."  She smiled thinly.  "You of all people should know about the beauty of anonymity." 

He mulled over the information she'd given him.  "What's he doing now?" 

"He died last year.  Cancer.  Quick yet extremely painful," she replied bitterly.

"I'm sorry," he said with feeling.

"We have a daughter.  She'll be ten in a few months."  He waited patiently while she stared off into the dark recesses of the cave.  "I wanted that statue for her birthday.  It's what brought us together.  It belongs to her."

"It belongs to me.  I paid for it," he grumbled, but already he knew he'd never see it again.

At that instant the large computer on the other side of the cave came to life.  "Wayne, come in," Terry's voice echoed eerily throughout the subterranean citadel.

He walked over and pressed a button.  "Go ahead Terry."

"I found it.  It was in the room safe.  I'm on my way back with it."

"No."

"Uh excuse me, I don't think I heard you correctly."

"I said no.  Leave it there."

"But you sent me here…"

"Stop arguing with me McGinnis.  I said leave it.  Return to base.  Wayne out."

She was staring up at him with questions in her eyes when he returned to the supply closet.  "Did you just do what I think you did?"  When he didn't reply her face softened into a smile.  "What a pleasant surprise.  Don't worry, I'll keep your dirty little secret," she said kindly.

"Which secret?" he asked.

"That you actually have a heart," she laughed.  "Oh and I have a surprise for you."  Quick as lightening she was on her feet, hands held out in front, the cuffs dangling loosely from one thumb.  "I'm a thief and you didn't even bother to search me for lock picks."

With a sage nod and grim smile, he replied, "I know.  I hope your little girl enjoys her birthday present."

She tossed the cuffs at him, which he caught with ease.  "Thanks.  I owe you one."  Then she moved towards the shadows, exiting the same way she came in.  "Say goodbye to Junior for me."

"Let me guess," he called out to her retreating back.  "They added cat DNA to your genetic mix?"

Her answer drifted back to him as if on the wings of a bat.  "Meow."


End file.
